The summer of 2008 is the summer of nuptials. Mr. Dupre has no fewer than three – count ‘em, three – wedding ceremonies that positively require his presence. In one case, my presence is verily required as I have the pleasure, the privilege, of being the man, best. I’m looking forward to this honor, and the many benefits that come with it (winged horses for personal transport, nights of indiscretion with various high standing members of both families’ wedding parties, raw oysters hand fed by eunuchs whilst lounging poolside. The usual.).

It is the other two weddings that have me thinking now, especially in light of recent events. I don’t know why, or what inspired this, but I made my way home late one evening after the opera and had a voice message from my old pal TBM (to be married, natch). “Mr. Dupre,” he said, “I'm honored that you can attend my wedding, but what I'd really like is for you to be in my wedding. There won’t be much demanded of you…coordinate outfits…walk through…various liberties”

“I say!” I said, pouring myself a nightcap. “This is something.” I confess that ever since I’ve felt the same sort of vaulting ambition that plagued poor Macbeth. Yes, yes, being in the wedding is an honor. Yes, yes, Thane of Cawdor is a promotion. But let’s be honest; I’ve tasted what it is to be donned best man, and frankly I don’t think I’ll be satisfied until I angle, and connive, and, if need be, kill, to get what I want, what I deserve, what has been promised me. I’m not only talking about old pal TBM’s wedding, but the other I’ve been invited to, one where my relationship with the groom is admittedly more distant, but the odds are not, I think, insurmountable. I think there is room here for me and the milk of human kindness will not impede. In one case, it is clearly within my grasp. The bachelor party was a small affair and there was a notable absence, and I could see an affectionate look in my friend’s eye at those who honored the engagement as the night wore on. There is a blood brother to contend with, but I gather he is far away. Airfares are prohibitive. Delays are not uncommon. And orchestrated, carefully planned, accidents do happen. As far as the other wedding goes, there is a big camping and rafting bachelor weekend coming up which I have been invited to. Once again, there is a brother in the picture, but he’ll be there. And think about what happens on a river rafting trip; canoes overturn, campfires explode, sadistic mountain men indiscriminately attack. There might very well be an occasion in which heroism is called for and if I rise to this orchestrated, carefully planned, challenge, who knows how high I will rise in this friend’s estimation? I’m giddy with the thought.

So, to recap: Three weddings. Best man at one, in the wedding party at two, merely invited to three. Yet, now having tasted best man honors, ready to dash newborns etc etc.

Stay tuned as I work this out, and I welcome comments.